


Tears so blue for the world I once knew

by MisaSDS



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Roleswap, Villian!Elena, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisaSDS/pseuds/MisaSDS
Summary: When Daemon died, Elena started to feel an incredible void in her chest.And an incredible hate.
Relationships: Elena/Daemon Spade
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66
Collections: KHR Rare Pair Week 2020





	Tears so blue for the world I once knew

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020) collection. 



> Italics - Memories  
> Normal- Present

"Mami!" the boy cried. Tears blurred his vision, and his muscles were too weak to move, but he continued, "No, Mami, Mami!"

The boy crawled to his sister's corpse, leaving a path made of blood behind him. He seemed to be struggling even to breathe, and yet he was drawing strength from some unknown place within him and desperately trying to reach her.

"Give her back, give her back to me. Give me back Mami!”

It was a pathetic sight, to the point she couldn't find any satisfaction in it. The best thing would be to end his life at once before he continued with that deplorable act. Also, his screams were starting to bother her; they echoing too loudly inside her ears.

"Mami!" he cried again, reaching out to take his sister's hand in his trembling hands, desperate to find any trace of life. It was all in vain, of course; life had already disappeared in the girl.

Nonchalantly, she raised the pistol and-

"Mami, don't go! Please, don't leave me!"

_"Don't leave me, please! Don't go!"_

She stopped.

"Sister, open your eyes!"

_"Dear, open your eyes!"_

She knew those pleas.

"I beg you, Mami!"

_"I beg you, I beg you!"_

However, unlike him, she knew that nothing would change, no matter how many times she pleaded.

Death was not something that could be reversed.

"Mami!"

_“Daemon!”_

_Everything was destroyed, shredded, finished._

_Once so splendid, so elegant and finely cared for, that part of the mansion was ruined: now it was nothing but rubble amid screams._

_She stood up as fast as she could, although with that simple movement, she felt his head spin and the ringing in her ears grew sharper, even so, she gathered forces and tried to see through the thick and penetrating curtain of smoke around her. She was staggering; her knees were shaking, her dress was full of dirt and blood: her blood, she could also feel it dripping from her forehead to cross her entire face._

_But it didn't matter; it didn't matter. It was just the consequences of the blow and indirectly having felt the explosion. She had not received the worst, but him: who had realized something was wrong and had driven her away, had pushed her out of real danger, receiving that fearsome explosion directly, it had been him. It had been him._

_She felt her chest compress, felt how the tears threatened to come out and how despair clouded her reason._

_Oh, God, oh, God._

_He was not; he was not. She didn't see him._

_There were only corpses, too many corpses, hundreds of them scattered in the rubble, full of dirt, dust, and blood. And everything belonged to her family, they all belonged to Vongola: cooks, messengers, maids, butlers. All ordinary people who were only doing their job, not a single warrior. All dead. Broken, treated like trash._

_The mansion had become a kind of slaughterhouse where the smell of blood began to rise with such power it was nauseating, that made her want to vomit, that made her want to drop to her knees and cry. But she couldn't do it, not yet, she had to find him, he had to stay alive!_

_She could hear how something moved among the rubble, among the pulverized stone. With the thread of hope tightening in her chest, she decided to go without delay to where she heard the sound._

_There she saw him._

_"Daemon!”_

She shook her head.

She didn't want to remember.

Elena lowered the gun and decided to turn around, leaving Enma Kozato in the middle of that bloodbath. Perhaps the Simons would be useful to her in the future. Leaving a survivor, for any eventuality, was not a bad idea.

Undoing her disguise as Sawada Iemitsu, Elena hid in the trees' shadows on that remote island. Thunderclaps resounded in the sky, presaging a storm, mingling with Enma Kozato's screams.

With grim indifference, she turned to look at her hands, seeing how the trail of mist in them did not fade: That meant she'd soon have to find a new container, a new body; the one she had could no longer bear the power. Unconsciously, a small smile appeared on her face; of course, the body couldn't hold it anymore, _her Daemon_ had always had a flame too strong for anyone to bear.

Maybe someone from those Simon kids would serve? She remembered Cozart and his family were unique in their way.

Yes, one of them could work in the meantime.

* * *

_Her hands trembled, weak, unsure. And with that, she couldn't help but feel a wave of strange anger boiling up inside her, anger directed at herself. Sometimes she couldn't help but consider herself inferior, find herself no better than her class: she couldn't even hold that piece of cloth well! And it made no sense; there was no reason she felt terrible when the wounded one was someone else, when she was safe, and he was in such a bad state._

_When he was very wounded._

_For what might be the tenth time in minutes, she wondered into what problem she had put him, into what world she had dragged him without knowing, in the vain hope she was doing the right thing. Helping others was the right thing to do, of course, there was never a doubt about that, but at what price? Wounds, scars? Life? If something happened, it would be her fault, because if it wasn't for her-_

_"Elena," he called her, "Elena, what ails you?"_

_"It is nothing," she hastened to reply, "It is nothing."_

_"Do you expect me to believe you when I see you're crying?"_

_She blinked, confused. And at that moment she discovered it was true: tears fell on that piece of cloth full of blood, they ran down her face, sliding down her cheeks, which was why she was beginning to see blurred and not for anything else._

_"I-"_

_"You don't need to continue," he assured her, "It was not a serious injury. May l-"_

_"It was not a serious injury!" she exclaimed, her voice rising and resonating between the four walls of the room, surprising the illusionist with that sudden show of emotion. “It was not a serious injury! How can you say that when you almost bleed to death next to me?! How can you say that when the bullet got so deeply embedded in-"_

_"Elena," he interrupted and took her hands in his, squeezing them, trying to comfort her, showing he was still there. "I'm alive, I'm fine. I just need to rest.”_

_"It's not right," she replied, tears gathering again in her eyes, preventing her from seeing, preventing her from focusing on the person she loved so much and who had been shot in the chest because of her. "It was directed at me; I was the target! If it weren't for that, you would have easily dodged it, I know. I know it very well. It was my fault!"_

_At that moment, when arms embraced her, when a calm voice told her she had to worry about nothing, she understood:_

_In that world in which she had foolishly and innocently dragged them, she was weak. He was a warrior, and she was a porcelain doll: striking and cute but fragile and delicate, a doll that could be broken with any slight hit—a doll who depended on her knight in shining armor to protect her._

_She had to try to change it. She had to try, maybe this way he wouldn't hurt himself because of her, perhaps-_

She sighed with almost palpable disappointment and resignation. As she supposed, Chrome Dokuro was not strong enough to hold the power. The girl was too weak for what she needed, useless to the point it disgusted her because she even depended on someone else to make her illusionary organs to stay alive. How it was Vongola had accepted someone like the girl? She disappeared from the scene for a few years, and suddenly they again allowed weak people to enter. Regrettable. She would have to check that once it was all over.

Elena brought one of her hands to her head, which was beginning to hurt. Seeing the situation, she had only one option: to bring out the true Mist guardian, _Rokudo Mukuro_.

At such thought, a part of her hesitated. She had never seen the illusionist or found an image in which he appeared - the young man was skilled. A genuinely talented mist user never reveals the truth of things, even with matters as simple and ordinary as identity was - but if she took into account the entire Tenth Generation seemed to be an almost replica of the First, then…

_"Elena, my dear."_

She shook her head.

No, it didn't matter. Although Rokudo Mukuro resembled Daemon, she was not going to back down. If she wanted to use the powers that had bequeathed her to its fullest, she needed a body capable of supporting them, and there was no one better for that than the true mist guardian. From the beginning, it had been a foolish idea to think Chrome Dokuro would serve her for such purposes; the girl was nothing more than Mukuro's way of contact with the rest of the world, nothing more and nothing less, a simple connector.

She looked up and watched the island's panorama from the balcony: The day was lapsing, the battles were still raging.

She smiled. Although she had to admit that a feeling similar to nostalgia and amazement had appeared in her when she first saw the Tenth Generation, even making her stagger, once the initial shock was over, it was easy to continue. Furthermore, because thanks to their similarity with her companions, it was easier to devise plans and let hatred take over her actions and mark the way forward.

If Sawada Tsunayoshi wanted to be some Giotto 2.0, she would change him, or kill him. Doing one thing or another depended on the actions that the so-called Tenth did. Besides, it was fun to see how the Simon and those children began to kill each other; it was like seeing in person that Cozart's ending she never managed to witness.

The next battle was soon starting: It was Adelheid's turn to fight, who, unlike the girl next to her, was a true warrior, an ice queen who rose above all the other members of Simon, including Enma. She was confident Adel would win, and if she didn't, it would also serve to see the fighting style of this Hibari Kyoya, who, she was aware, would be a great annoyance to deal with if he turned out to be even half as strong as Alaude was.

For the first time in a long time, Elena felt a certain nervousness, a confident expectation. Those children were so much like her old companions that it was strange and exciting to watch them fight. Sasagawa Ryohei, Lambo Bovino, and Gokudera Hayato had already passed, proving they were worthy of winning the heritage.

She couldn't wait for the next.

In just a blink, the mist surrounded her, and she was Julie Kato again.

"Chrome Dokuro," called she, "Let's go."

* * *

_"_ _Elena, please. Look at me,” Giotto pleaded, his orange eyes had lost their shine, and his face was covered with a veil of sadness that made him look like he was about to cry. “Elena-“_

 _"He warned you," her voice came out guttural, raspy: nothing to be surprised considering all she had shouted and cried, "He warned you."_

_"I-"_

_"He said getting rid of our forces would be suicidal, it would be our destruction!" she yelled at him, her legs trembling, her hands shaking. "And what did you say?! That it was the best decision because there was no chance of us being attacked! ”_

_"Elena, plea -"_

_"You didn't listen, and that's why we ended up like this!" she reproached him. “What do you think of the consequences of your decision? You like them?"_

_"Not-"_

_"Were you pleased to see Maria's son cry over her mother's grave because she was burned to death by the explosion? Were you pleased to see how Guido left flowers on top of her wife's tomb because she was crushed to death by the rubble?” she asked, the corners of her lips starting to rise, forming a mad smile. Remembering the number of funerals she'd had and still had to have made her want to laugh out of sheer despair. “Wait, how about seeing Fernanda drop to her knees on her husband and son's corpses? Which of all, did you like the most?”_

_"You know well-"_

_"Or is it the best of all to see me cry like a disgraced princess because my fiancé, who was your guardian, who warned you that all this could happen, is dead?" she spat acidly, hatred dripping into each of her words. "That's the best view of all, isn't it?"_

In that state, Sawada Tsunayoshi seemed to be the living image of Giotto: with the fleeting gaze that seemed to judge everyone, with that air of moral duty of wanting to eradicate the evil to do the good.

The funny thing was that at first, she had been like him: she longed to be able to help, classified people from good to bad, she dared to judge the actions of others in the colors black or white. But for better or for worse, she had learned the lesson:

No one could be totally good or totally bad. The persons were all gray, and anyone had the right to detest the other. And it should be emphasized after seeing that memory where the guardians saved Cozart Simon even though she was sure he had died, that right to hate was fundamental because she just felt how hatred emerged in every part of her being.

Giotto had tricked her.

_"Primo. Let me help. I will send the elite group to open a path and let them out.”_

_"I don't want to force you to do it."_

_"We had our differences. But I am sure this is what he would have wanted: to protect the others. Let me try."_

Lies. Silly stuff.

Giotto ended up being an actor almost as good as she was, and who used the same tactics: smile, be concerned, pretend to think and accept. Who would doubt you with your angelic appearance and perfect smile?

"Who are you?" Tsunayoshi asked, "Why are you doing this?!"

All she did was smile at him. Smile as the Vindice took Kaoru Mizuno and Suzuki Aldeheid, that impertinent man who thought it would be easy to try to pierce her chest with his weapon, and that fallen queen who had been destroyed by vain sentimentality. Smile at him while Chrome Dokuro made a barrier to protect her that could well be considered suicidal: if it broke, Dokuro would die.

Smile at him because no matter how much they complained, her plan was still going.

And it was such a pure smile, a smile that framed her features and highlighted them, that inspired absolute confidence and softness, and that, with the threads of blood that ran down her mouth, made her look like a kind of angel. It caused the Tenth Vongola to look confused. Even Yamamoto Takeshi, who had not hesitated to attack her with evident murderous hunger, seemed out of place and looked at his weapons with doubt as to if he did not believe he had made attacks intended to kill and injure her.

"Stay tuned, Dame-Tsuna. It is not a normal person," the arcobaleno, the cursed baby, spoke, "Think about what you have seen."

"She is a traitor. There is nothing more to say," Gokudera Hayato spat. "It's what matters."

"She seemed close to Primo," Tsunayoshi spoke, "Who-"

"Too many words and no response," she interrupted. "My identity is not something that should interest you."

"You are using a guardian's weapon," the arcobaleno watched her with a certain suspicion, with particular disguised anger. "You are using his flame. And in the past, you used his men. That is an insult against the family.”

She laughed. It was a strange laugh, one that seemed sincere and full of fun, but mocking and rancorous simultaneously, in a voice so soft it made everyone doubt if she was a fallen angel in her process of madness.

"Don't speak without knowing," she replied, "I have every right to use what I use."

"Daemon Spade," Tsunayoshi said the name, hesitantly, in a deficient form and almost in a whisper, but she heard it with such clarity that the laugh cut off and she turned to see him with a gaze so fixed and penetrating that the boy felt a chill. "He was..."

"The First Generation Mist Guardian," Gokudera Hayato completed, watching her with obvious disgust. "What does a harpy like her do using his powers? In Vongola's name, that's bullshit!”

"Daemon is recognized as one of the guardians most loyal to the family's original cause," the Arcobaleno explained, "That someone is using his powers to kill is-"

"I will repeat it," she spoke, her voice cold and her eyes without any brightness. "Do not speak without knowing. It is not my problem that you are so useless as not to know the history of your own family.”

"You are a-"

Before the annoying storm guardian could finish speaking, Elena had already disappeared into the mist:

Taking Chrome with her.

* * *

_"That was awkward..."_

_"I would rather say with a lack of education. A woman, daring to speak like that!”_

_"It seems her father, the Duke, is more concerned about his fortune than taking care of his daughter."_

_"If I had been fortunate enough to be in her place, I would remain silent and do what every good person in our class should do.”_

_She felt her frustration rise with each passing second, and to avoid doing something, all she did was squeeze hard the fabric of her dress. Despite being away, she could still hear them with some clarity: and what they said made her want to throw the wine at their expensive outfits. Just because she was a woman or because her father was the duke, did not mean she had to behave as others did: posing as a painting, agreeing to everything and dedicating herself to sewing all day; what kind of life would it be? But they didn't understand it, none of them understood._

_"What topic is so entertaining and fun that your laughter can be heard more than the music?" a new voice spoke. He had a curious accent; clearly, he was not Italian. Instead, he seemed..._

_German?_

_Now were foreigners also going to make fun of her?_

_"Herr Spade, you will see-"_

_"I didn't know it bothered you that people had the ability to think. Coming from the land that has given so much culturally, I find it curious."_

_"What? It is not what you think. What happens is, speaking like that for a woman is… ”_

_"Horrible. And more being the daughter of a duke.”_

_A few seconds passed before the person answered again._

_"I understand."_

_"Isn't it? She is so-"_

_“What bothers you is the fact there is someone who breaks our status quo of beings without thoughts. Normal; it is the status quo that allows our class to survive; without it, the same would happen as in the French Revolution where many necklaces full of jewels were cut," a pause. "And I am sure they would have problems cutting yours with the number of jewels you have. Have you not thought about stopping using so many of them? Your death could be painful."_

_The group instantly fell silent, and Elena could not avoid the reflex act of laughing as she turned to see where they were to recognize her curious companion._

_He was a young man with a calm demeanour but a playful look and a satisfied smile, dressed in a military uniform. And he turned to see her as soon as he felt her eyes on him._

_His eyes were a beautiful blue._

_Even with the traces of laughter on her lips, she bowed with thanks, and the man smiled at her as he repeated the same action._

_She liked him, she decided._

_And for that very reason, she did not hesitate to speak to him, even if it meant shouting so that he would listen to her, and that everyone would turn to see her in disgust._

_"Would you do me the huge favour of telling your name?" she spoke with a too evident smile on her face. "I would love to know more about someone who seems to have living brain cells."_

_"You, insolent woman!" someone yelled in disgust, "How dare you-"_

_"Daemon Spade," the young man replied, completely ignoring the others and the tantrums they were making, and the prying eyes of everyone, "My name is Daemon Spade."_

* * *

"So, you came..." Elena mentioned as the mist began to cover the entire place, and a new presence appeared, one from which an evident hatred and murderous intent emanated. "You are..."

“ _Kufufu_ ,” a laugh, a laugh that sounded familiar. So much that she felt as if someone had shot her in the chest, because…

_"Nufufu"_

"You dare to play with my toys," a voice was heard, a sound full of rancour, of contained fury. "You, rotten mafia!"

It shouldn't surprise her so much, should it? She was aware of that possibility; she was almost sure it was going to be that way. But thinking about it and seeing it was different things. Her suspicions were correct: all the Tenth Generation members did resemble the First, in some strange and incomprehensible way.

Her strength faltered, and her eyes widened, revealing for a few moments surprise when she finally saw the true mist guardian.

One blue eye, the other red. Dark blue hair with a peculiar hairstyle (even in that aspect he looked like him, was it the world was playing a bad joke on her?), with a dignified bearing, and a malicious smile plastered on his face. She wanted to laugh when she also noticed the boy was wearing gloves and an outfit that had particular inspirations in a military suit.

And she did laugh. A laugh that sounded somewhat desperate and resigned at the same time.

"Glad to meet you at last," Elena spoke, bowing with grace. "Just by seeing you, I can say I was right. You are a great mist user.”

"With just a glance, I can say the same about you," Mukuro said, "You are the epitome of what I hate: a rotten soul that hides behind an angelic face and good manners.”

"Ah, I didn't make an excellent impression, from what I see," she commented naturally. Luckily, she had already learned how to disguise her real emotions well. “How about we go for tea to fix that? You seem able to control yourself enough to endure exchanging a few words with me.”

"No thanks," was the reply, "I would rather take you to hell at once."

Elena cocked her head with some interest.

"I wonder how different it is from the one I already know."

Mukuro smiled.

"You will see it soon."

The next second, Rokudo Mukuro was only inches from her, and his trident was just a simple movement from piercing her abdomen. Reacting in time, Elena made an oz appear in her hands, blocking the attack with it as the mist around them thickened: If the boy wanted to fight seriously, it was going to be like that. At least long enough to do what she needed to do.

"An illusionist capable of fighting," she commented with some pride in her words. "Without a doubt, you are someone interesting."

Mukuro cocked his head slightly and looked at her with some curiosity. His eyes fixed on hers, and Elena felt a knot form in her stomach, mainly because of one of them's blue color.

The same shade as _his_.

"I see," the boy mentioned to the air, "You are using his power. That is why your presence is so similar to his.”

Elena moved the oz to attack, but the young illusionist dodged it with ease as she backed up a few meters. She intended to get him away, and at least she had accomplished it.

" _Kufufu_. Is what I see on your face anger?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" Mukuro smirked, “I met the original owner of the powers you use. Vongola magic.”

Elena felt like something, deep inside her, was breaking into thousands of little bits; and from the smile Mukuro showed, it seemed her face had reflected that negative surprise very well.

"That is impossible."

"Part of them lives in the Vongola rings," the young man replied. "Didn't you know? Recently they answered a certain call from Vongola for help and did a kind of succession tests," he explained, "Daemon Spade created a big problem with his. Still, even though we differed quite a bit in ideas, according to him, I was worthy enough to give me the power," he shrugged. "That mark you have in the eye, the sign of the spade... is his—using someone else's powers to do evil, miss? How daring.”

Vongola rings?

Do they live in the rings?

Never, never she heard about it!

"Hide the truth in the lie, and the lie in the truth," Elena quoted, trying to contain the desire to scream and force that ungrateful little one to say more, "That is what the illusionists do. How do I know what you say is true?”

"I cannot deny the very logical mistrust," Mukuro said, "Believe it or not, it is a matter of yourself."

"How gentlemanly of you," she replied and stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and lifting the oz, setting her in battle. Mukuro laughed, but before he could even activate the Vongola Gear that had been bequeathed to him, the woman's expression, whose features seemed to be outlined with a certain halo of sadness, caught his attention for a few seconds. “As a thank you, I promise I will see you end up with no serious injuries.”

"Oh?" he cocked his head, "I see too much pride even to think you could seriously hurt me."

She just smiled.

"Take it as you like."

Even if Rokudo Mukuro turned out to be the most abominable being in the universe, she would not dare to severely injure him and not think of the remote possibility of killing him. To the other members of that generation? Yes, but not him.

Not him.

"Let's get started, then?"

With those words, the world distorted, darkness reigned, and faces of broken dolls appeared everywhere, making creepy sounds that could be identified as a kind of laughter.

Mukuro looked at the surroundings with sincere amazement, and even a half-smile was drawn on his face as he turned to see the realistic details of the faces and the broken eyes of those beings.

"Beautiful interior landscape," he commented, "But I'm afraid I would have to destroy it."

* * *

_She looked confusedly at her hands, at the reflection of her face in one of the near broken windows._

_There was mist on her hands._

_Her right eye showed the sign of the spade._

_And she felt a strange wave of energy coursing through her body, giving her weird chills and a feeling of coldness that she had not experienced before._

_"The man was undoubtedly skillful." Talbot, the young man Giotto had known for a long time before and referred to as a genius craftsman, spoke. His gaze fixed on her, and his eyes reflected an almost chilling curiosity. "He managed to pass you all his powers before die."_

_"Excuse me?" she asked in a soft voice, in a tone low and plaintive enough to make the other guardians look at her with concern, “What does this mean? Why-"_

_"There is nothing to be confused about," Talbot replied, "He gave up his powers to you before he died. Mist is a curious element; it has so many special properties that it doesn't surprise me see this."_

_Elena felt a horrible lump form in her throat, preventing her from speaking, although she had opened her mouth to respond. Maybe it was for the best; her lips were trembling so much it was most likely that only stuttering without meaning would come out._

_The worst thing of all is what resonated the most in her mind was not the fact of now having impressive powers, no, what most repeated in her mind as a kind of curse that gnawed at her chest were the words "before death"._ _As if she needed to be told again that he had died and she could only cry while holding him. While her throat was ripping from so many screams. While she was shivering as if something had been broken deep inside her, and other guardians had to force her to move, pulling and dragging her away from what was now a corpse._

_Giotto spoke for her._

_"Does that mean she now has Daemon's powers?" he asked, "Could she do the same as he?"_

_"If she trains enough to control them, yes," Talbot answered._

_"Why would Daemon do something like that?" Lampo asked quietly, in an almost somber tone. His usual impudence was gone._

_"It is clear why," Alaude was the one who replied, "He gave them to her so that she could protect herself with them."_

_Elena laughed. It was guttural and somber laugh, a laugh that seemed to gurgle with pain, making everyone turn to see her._

_A laugh that soon morphed into tears as her body began to shake again._

_What was not erased, was that crooked smile she had._

_"Elena-"_

_"I don't need his powers," she spoke, turning to see Talbot with an expression of desperation so marked that the craftsman backed down a few steps by mere instinct: a desperate person can do crazy things if given a chance to ."I need him."_

_"Miss Elena. I cannot-"_

_"I don't need his powers!" she screamed and approached him in a fit of anger that made her violently grab his shirt. Giotto and G, who were closest, held her to keep her from doing something silly, but she didn't even turn to see them. "I don't need them, I want him to come back!"_

_"Why are you-"_

_"Is there no way to pass them back to his body?" she asked in anguish. "Powers are part of a person's soul, right? Maybe like this, maybe like this-_

_"He is dead," Talbot said, "There is nothing to be done about it."_

_"But-"_

_"He's dead," he repeated. "Understand that."_

_Elena released him and looked into nothingness for a few seconds. Then, with her eyes still misty with tears, she raised her arm and slapped the craftsman so hard in the face that he ended up falling to the ground while putting his hand to his cheek._

_"Elena!"_

_"Useless!" she yelled, "Trash!"_

_"Elena, calm down!"_

_"You have no right to ask me for anything, Giotto!" she spat furiously. "You don't have it! It was your fault! If only, if only you- "_

_She fell to the ground on her knees and hugged herself, her body trembling so hard it seemed like she was going to be torn apart at any moment, and her gaze was so empty and lost that it made anyone who saw her think she had truly died._

_"I want him!" she cried, begged, "Please give him back to me. I want him!"_

_Giotto seemed to be on the verge of tears._

_"Give him back! Give him back to me!”_

* * *

Her body - no, it was wrong to say so. Her soul was fading away. She could feel it; her consciousness was fading; her spirit became a dissolving mist.

Elena watched how slowly all of her disappeared, and for the first time in a long, long time, that emotion of wanting to laugh and cry at the same time appeared.

Her illusory world had been shattered, and now all of the guardians in it, Vongola and Simon, were free and watching her, not knowing what to do, as if someone had frozen them in their places. The one with the most astonishing face and not understanding what was happening was Sawada Tsunayoshi, still flying, still using that Oath Flame on the surroundings. The boy opened his mouth to speak, but the voice heard was a completely different one.

"Why did you do that?"

Elena turned slightly back, meeting a stunned Rokudo Mukuro who was only a step away. His soul had already returned to his body. It was clear the young man expected to have to return to a shattered and lifeless body, especially after the attack Tsunayoshi did. He expected to be half-dead, not in perfect condition, and with almost no injury in him.

"You left the body before the attack hit, and put yourself as a shield," the illusionist spoke, although he appeared calm, it was clear he was equally or even more surprised than the others. "Why?"

Elena smiled at him, and Mukuro felt like a small part of him, a small piece of his heart, received a stab. The smile she had in those moments was different from the one she wore before, there was no pride or hatred, but sadness and...

Relief?

"I told you," she said, "You were not going to carry serious injuries. I mentioned it, didn't I? ”

Because for her, letting something happen to that boy would be as if she were going through her chest with a sword. Because he and Daemon were so alike that seeing him with a single wound, with blood on his body, or even weak, would be the same as reliving that scene where she had lost him.

And she couldn't allow it even if it was stupid, even if it played against her.

She could not.

Mukuro looked at her with a certain sadness reflected on his face, and with just that little gloss, Elena felt her lip tremble.

"Please, don't look at me like that," she asked, "Please..."

Behind, Tsunayoshi landed on the ground and approached with dubious steps. His hyper mode had faded when he saw no more danger so that the confusion could be seen more clearly on his face.

"Mukuro. She-"

"This is yours," the illusionist completely ignored Tsunayoshi's words; he even knelt to look her at the face. "It fell after the impact."

Elena turned to look at Mukuro's hands, holding a locket that was open, revealing two different photos inside it.

In one, the entire first generation was posing in a photo. She was also present, smiling sincerely.

In the other, the one that surprised Tsuna the most when he managed to see it, showed Daemon Spade smiling as he hugged her, and she seemed to look embarrassed, but happy.

Incredibly happy.

" _Kufufu_. Having a weakness towards me because I look like your old couple..." Mukuro said, "It's a little too sentimental and dangerous, don't you think?"

"O-old, couple?!" Tsuna yelled, "S-she-"

"Sometimes, I am surprised you can add two plus two, Tsunayoshi," the illusionist snorted. "If you think about it, it is obvious."

Before the Vongola boss could respond, Elena laughed bitterly, a laugh that turned halfway into a small cry.

She was a spirit; how could she cry?

"You're right," she commented, "It was silly of me. But it is something that I cannot control.”

"A real shame."

"Wait!" Tsuna called her, "I-if you were with him, then why..."

"Because it was Giotto's fault that I lost him," she answered honestly, but she did not turn to see him. She closed his eyes, waiting for her last remnants to vanish into thin air. “Giotto and his fear of having power. As if the world could respect you without it. The family does not need people so weak that instead of protecting, endanger others and leave them facing death or fear.”

"Primo didn't want to have too much power, he just-"

"Wanted to help people. I know, I get it," she sighed. "That's why I joined Vongola in the first place, why I made him joined too."

_"He is Giotto, the Vongola boss."_

_"Nice to meet you," the young leader smiled, giving his hand in greeting, "Elena has told me a lot about you."_

_"Daemon Spade," he introduced himself, "Ah? I hope it wasn't anything bad.”_

_“Besides wasted more than half a day thinking about you and repeating that you are the best person she had ever met, no. Nothing bad."_

_"Giotto!"_

_Elena reprimanded him, even started to give him small blows on the arm in reproach. Giotto just laughed and tried to apologize._

_"I don't think the time she spends on that is greater than the one I use," Daemon commented with some amusement, followed by a look and smile that contained a certain flirtation directed at Elena, who turned away so that the blush it wouldn't show on her cheeks. The illusionist laughed, "But it is good to know."_

_"It is not the only thing I can tell you."_

_"Seriously?"_

_"She too-"_

_"Giotto!"_

At least, the last memory that flashed through her mind was a good one.

"An idiot, indeed," the illusionist commented, "However, I don't think you are more brilliant than him if you decided to stay in this rotten world instead of going to the afterlife and meet Daemon Spade again."

Elena opened her eyes at his words, "Pardon?"

Mukuro raised an eyebrow and did a small snort. "Only masochists like me decide to stay here when the option to escape exists," he said, "Are you also a masochist?" 

"Ah, M-mukuro..." Tsuna stuttered.

Elena laughed.

The first time in a long, long time, she did it.

"What illusionist is not a bit of a masochist?" was the reply, "We use our nightmares as a weapon."

"I cannot deny anything of that logic," Mukuro answered, "However, I think it was too much suffering for this life."

"Everything will work according to the script that Sawada Tsunayoshi does, huh?" resignation was palpable in her words. “Rokudo Mukuro. May I ask you for a favor before I disappear?"

"Oh? And what kind of favor would that be?"

"Don't let him be as stupid as Giotto," she asked, "Strength doesn't necessarily have to be bad."

"Interesting words coming from someone who doesn't hesitate to use hers to help make this world stink with more blood."

"Even so-"

"Vongola will be fine," he said. "Now go. He is waiting for you.”

The last thing Elena heard before she disappeared was those words.

It was not a horrible death.

* * *

_It was between rubble and dust, between death and blood, where her being broke._

_It didn't matter how many times she thought about it. It didn't matter how many times she saw it - or rather, remembered it - it was all the same:_

_It was like seeing everything from the view of a third person._

_She felt a feeling of emptiness, of pressure in her chest that made it challenging to breathe, which made her feel as if she were choking. She felt a pain that began in the place where her heart rested, and that spread throughout her body: in the form of nausea, weakness, trembling hands, and lack of strength in the legs._

_She could see how a part of her cried, shouted, and pleaded._

_And the other part, the one who was observing everything, could not do it no matter how much she wanted: it was as if the source of tears had dried up and it had nothing more to spill. And when it dried up, it had left an empty, lonely pond, one that could no longer be filled again._

_With what? The answer was obvious:_

_Hope._

_"It seems my luck is not so bad in the end," he said amid the ruin and destruction. At the time he was unable to move, he was too hurt: blood and dirt could be seen everywhere in him, dwarfing the faint smile he wore. "At least I can see you one more time before it is all over."_

_"Don't talk like you're saying goodbye," she begged. Her hands were shaking, and again, she felt like the weakest and most insignificant person in the world — because she couldn't do anything, she could only cry and scream and wait for the others to appear, to appear quickly because if not- “Everything will be fine, everything will be fine. You will see it."_

_His hands tightened on hers in a final show of strength. "With this, you should be able to accomplish your goal. To help others."_

_Before she could respond, a chill ran through her, a kind of wave of energy that started in her hands and ended up going through her entire body. And suddenly she felt cold, cold, one that chilled her blood and made her tremble more than she already did._

_"W-what did you..."_

_"Stay with them and help them. I am sure you can do it.”_

_"Daemon-"_

_"Beware, my love."_

_And there, it was when everything became more distant. More blurry as a representation she wished to forget._

_"Dear, open your eyes!"_

_That person who was crying desperately, was she?_

_"Do not leave me, please! Do not go!"_

_Was this person begging, trembling, holding the body of her loved one, really her?_

_"I beg you, I beg you!"_

_The same one who had been unable to do anything, who had been to blame for dragging him into that world, who was no more than a porcelain doll now broken, was she?_

_It was her, she realized._

_And she hated herself for it._

_It had been her fault._

_It had all been her fault._

* * *

"Elena, wake up."

She opened her eyes.

A smile.

"Finally, I see you again."

He was there.


End file.
